Five Years On
by quarterlifeincrisis
Summary: The Weasley family comes together five years after the Battle of Hogwarts.


Five years. It had been five years since the war ended, five years since Fred left them. If you had asked any of them how they were coping, they'd tell you they were fine, that each day got a little easier. If they were being honest, they'd tell you it never got easier, that everyday without him was hard, that even though the family was growing by leaps and bounds, that it had practically doubled in size since they were all last together, that it always felt incomplete without Fred. It always would.

It was good that Victoire's birthday coincided with the anniversary of the battle's end. She was the constant reminder they all needed. This was why they fought. She would never need to worry about her blood status, or go into hiding because her mum was a quarter veela and her dad was scarred by a werewolf. She was free. They all were.

The whole family had gathered together today. After dinner, everyone poured out of the Burrow and into the garden. It was a warm spring evening, and Ron especially was grateful for this time with his family. May 2nd was a difficult day for the Weasleys. The remembrance ceremony this morning was a reminder of everyone and everything they had lost. His niece's birthday reminded them of everything they had gained back

Ron watched as Teddy and Victoire raced on broomsticks around the yard. They weren't more than two feet off the ground, but he heard Fleur gasp every time Victoire dipped and swerved. She was already a fair flyer, learning from her dad. Teddy was learning from Harry, and it was clear that he had his mum's skill backed by his godfather's influence. At five years old, he was already fearless on a broom. He tried to force his broom higher and higher, faster and faster. He smiled to himself as Teddy hopped off his broom and ran into Harry's waiting arms. It was fitting, that Harry was his godfather. Harry knew all too well the pain of growing up without parents, and Ron knew that Harry could empathize better than anyone else. For starters, Teddy didn't sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, and his Christmas gifts had thus far been a marked improvement over hand-me-down socks and folded tissues.

More than that, Ron knew that Harry, who had always longed for a family, would rather die than see Teddy suffer the same fate. Harry was adamant that Teddy grow up with stories and pictures of his family. His godfather wouldn't be a mystery. He would do what Sirius had always wanted to do. Harry would be the godfather Sirius would have been. Lupin and Tonks deserved that much

Ron looked at Harry spinning Teddy on his back, and smiled when he saw Ginny race over to them, snatch Teddy, and spin him upside down. To any strangers, they would have looked like a perfect little family.

Family.

It was on his mind a lot lately. He bad been married to Hermione for two years this summer. A few months after their wedding, he left the Aurors for good. He couldn't do it anymore. It had been exciting in the beginning. He wanted to see all the remaining Death Eaters captured and sent to Azkaban. After a year on the run with Britain's most wanted wizard, and six years of adventures and otherwise dangerous missions with Harry and Hermione, not running or chasing adventure made him restless. After their wedding, he found it harder and harder to go to the Ministry everyday. Every time he came home from a dangerous mission, another 20-hour day in the books, he collapsed into bed, thankful to be alive more than anything else. One night, he couldn't fall asleep, his mind still too agitated after returning home. He looked at Hermione, asleep next to him, and his heart started racing. What if he hadn't come home tonight? What if he didn't come back at all? What would happen to her? He broke into a cold sweat thinking about everything that could have happened, every time he came dangerously close to dying–again. He wanted her. He wanted this. He wanted a life with her, and a family. How much longer would he try to prove himself worthy and risk his life in the process? He thought about Teddy's grandmother, raising her grandson after losing her husband, daughter, and son-in-law. He thought about Neville, raised by his grandmother and his parents unable to recognize him. Would he do that to Hermione? Leave her to raise a family alone after his job caught up with him?

Ron left the Aurors a few weeks later, convinced he was disappointing everyone in the process, but confident that he was making the right choice. He joked that working with George was nearly as dangerous as chasing escaped Death Eaters, but at least he was home every night.

He wanted a family with her. He wanted kids with freckles and bushy hair. He wanted little know-it-alls who loved books and the Cannons. He saw Fleur holding baby Dominique, shouting at Bill in French as he took Victoire higher on his broom. He wanted to hear Hermione fret and fuss over their children. He thought he might be a little mental, because who wants more nagging and fussing from his wife? He decided he didn't care, because he wanted a family with her. He'd take the fussing and the fretting and the long nights, and everything else Bill told him came with it.

He was snapped back to the present when Hermione shifted in her chair next to him. He had been staring at her with such intensity that her cheeks reddened, and she moved toward him. He loved that after everything, after years of pretending she was nothing more than a friend, after a year of living on the run together, after two years of marriage, he could still make her blush like that.

She settled herself into his lap, her hand on his shoulder

"What are you staring at, Mr. Weasley?"

"You."

"You live with me. What's there to stare at?"

Bill landed softly on the ground with Victoire in his lap. His niece raced over to her mother and he saw Fleur cluck at Bill about flying while Victoire made faces at Dominique.

"I want that." He nodded at Bill and Fleur. "And that." He nodded at Teddy, who had pulled Charlie out of his chair and onto the grass, just so he could climb on him.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "You want to get yelled at by Fleur? Go ahead and take Victoire on your broom. You could be in London before the sun sets," she teased.

"You know darn well what I mean, Hermione Granger."

She smiled at him, and turned her head again toward the family. "It would be nice, I think." She pursed her lips together. "But really, we have no idea what we'd be doing."

He gave her that look again, the look that reminded her of all the times they never had any idea what they were doing, but managed to figure it out anyway and somehow escape with their lives. "Since when have we ever–"

"I know, I know," she fussed. "But it's just…a child. I don't know. It's a bit scary to think about."

"Unbelievable. She can break into Gringotts, but she's afraid of the idea of a baby."

She chuckled and elbowed him in the shoulder. She knew he was right, because she wasn't denying it. He knew Hermione liked to plan, and she'd always planned everything for them. Every step they ever took together, Hermione was the brains behind it all. He knew that for her, this would take her usual method of planning to an entirely new level. Still, he could see the wheels turning in her head.

"Okay," she said.

"Yeah?" He couldn't have stopped the grin from spreading across his face no matter how hard he tried.

She turned to look at him, and she was smiling tentatively. He knew she'd warmed to the idea.

"Yes. Yes." She was nodding now. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's do it. Let's have a baby."

They looked at each other with that same intensity. The moment was broken when Ginny called out from across the lawn. "OI! You're not alone out here, you know!' Ron made a rude gesture, and from across the yard, Molly put her hands on her hips and glared at him. He was only vaguely aware of her as she started on him. "Ronald Weasley, how many times have I told you…in front of the children…practically a child yourself…"

Five years ago, he didn't know if he'd live to see the next morning. The sun was setting on the Burrow, and for the umpteenth time in five years, he was grateful.


End file.
